Friday, January 14, 2005

It was the monthly comedy night in our lovely one horse town last night. The usual peculiar crowd assembled down the arts centre, purchasing their bottles of red before folding their arms and demanding to be entertained. We managed to secure a two-seater sofa for the night, only to be joined by a third party - the evening's headline act Andrew Clover. He possessed an abundance of nervous energy and I feared that at some point he would fall off the chair arm he had balanced his pert ass cheeks on and I would have to administer some kind of mouth-to-mouth. The state my mouth's in at the moment, it could well have finished him off. But no, Andrew slid off the chair arm and squeezed right in there with us, and in between his idiosyncratic barks of laughter, stared at us as if we were sitting in his sofa. If we'd known how funny he was going to be we'd have made him more welcome. But at 8.35pm and still sober, he was just some bloke in a stripey jumper who twitched a lot. As I say, funny crowd. The town's fishmonger was the main heckler on the night. Mr Clover, a very absurd gent with an animal fixation, was doing a grand job of dealing with the fish gent and eeking out his comedy gold, when the bulk of the crowd sided with the fishmonger - a spit for Jeremy Spake - claiming that he was the most important man in town because he does a lovely fish pie. Very surreal. Top night though, I laughed several times.

Many people are saying leave Prince Harry alone, it was only a swastika arm band, a kinky uniform and a bad joke gone public. Others are saying haul yourself into a public arena and apologise for being insensitive, tasteless and offensive and completely lacking in common sense. I say Harry, sit down, take a look at this and start to fill in all those parts of your knowledge that appear to be missing. Looking forward to living in a republic.